


First Impressions

by arcaneScribbler



Series: Player Count 8 + 2 [5]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Character-driven plots are fun, Chucklevoodoos, Everyone lives, F/M, Faygo, Fish Puns, Fix-It, Gen, Hal hates water balloons, Hurt/Comfort, In Which Calliope is Far too Precious for this Multiverse, Karkat being his usual shouty self, Kurloz actually being pretty chill sometimes, M/M, Multi, Prankster's Gambit, Sign Language, So. Many., Strider Family, Yes there is indeed actual plot going on, a bit of violence, injuries, of course Hal has traps covering his roof, post-victory, regrettable accents, robot-human hybrid Lil Hal, so many fish puns, the author is terrible at tagging, will add tags as story continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcaneScribbler/pseuds/arcaneScribbler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is LIL HAL STRIDER and you have <em>no fucking clue</em> how to deal with people outside of a chat client.</p><p>Before The Game, you'd known a grand total of four Real People™, but none of them actually considered you a "person". The only ones who might have seen differently were all 'fake' like you, and they're gone. You're the only one left.</p><p>The player count for this batshit excuse for a Game Session is nine humans, two dozen trolls, two cherubs, and whatever the fuck you are. There's a whole new universe waiting beyond that (if you live to see it).</p><p>You're beginning to realize just how complicated being a Real Boy™ can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jake English [Pesterchum]

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe, yet another piece of the 'verse~. This fic is multi-chaptered and probably won't follow a linear chronological order, at least not always. Though if I get that far, it will be split into two chronologies: before and after exiting the session. (Actually, I'm going to make the post-session ones their own fic.) Hope ya'll enjoy it!
> 
>  **Note for readers using a mobile device:** Some of the letters I use for 'static-text' don't seem to show up on my phone, and my fics often contain hover-text, so it may be better to read this on a computer. Sorry for the inconvenience! Additionally, the site I use for translating text into binary, etc., is: http://www.unit-conversion.info/texttools/category/Converters#data
> 
>  **EDIT 9/26/2014:** Minor edits to the summary and changed the fic's title. Formerly known as Reunions and Reevaluations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT 8/18/2014:** Went in and started reformatting things to better match what pesters and memos look like in Homestuck canon... Dunno when I'll have time to do the rest, but I'll try to remember to.

=====> Jake: Pester Dirk. 

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at ??:?? --  
GT: Oh thank goodness!  
GT: Youre finally online!  
GT: Come to think of it i havent heard from you in a dogs age old chum.  
GT: How have you been?  
TT: Busy.  
GT: Busy? What with? Any spiffy new projects caught your fancy?  
TT: You could say that.  
TT: It’s still in the early stages, so I’d rather not share.  
TT: What about you? Surely you aren’t just here for a chat.  
GT: Spot on! Theres been a right bit of commotion you see.  
GT: Ive been trying to get ahold of you all week to spread the news.  
GT: Two new planets appeared out of nowhere!  
GT: I for one am just itching to explore them.  
GT: Ive only waited this long because  
GT: Well.  
GT: Because id hoped to perhaps do so with company.  
GT: Itll be an adventure!  
TT: I suggest you don't and say you did.  
TT: Because there is a very high probability that Crow will gut you on sight.  
GT: So you already know about them? Righto!  
TT: And I get the feeling you would not be welcome on LOFPAS.  
TT: Besides, you waited for an entire week just for little ol’ me to log on instead of hitting up Jane, Roxy, or any of our not-cestors, nevermind the shit-ton of trolls and their trollshit.  
TT: Don’t get me wrong, bro, but that’s kind of telling.  
TT: It would almost seem as if you’re still carrying a torch.  
GT: WHAT NO!  
GT: THAT ISNT AT ALL WHAT I MEANT BY  
GT: Dirk i just  
GT: I KNOW i did a plumb job of buggering everything up. But does that mean we cant even be friends?  
GT: I was just hoping we could go exploring together again.  
GT: Just two chums seeking a bit of excitement you know?  
GT: Tomb-raiding with you on lotak really was fun. I miss it.  
TT: ...  
TT: Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea?  
GT: Huh?  
GT: Oh bugger whatever i said this time im sorry please dont log off!  
TT: Jake. Calm down.  
TT: As the ambiguous group of entities known as ‘they’ say, “it’s not you, it’s me.”  
TT: I’ll make it simple.  
TT: Hello, Jake.  
TT: It seems you have been speaking with the wrong Strider all this time.  
TT: Guess I haven’t lost my touch after all.  
TT: You could say I’m a master of imbrosonation.   
TT: \></  
TT: There is a 92.7% chance that using Dirk’s handle instead of my own was a dick move, but I was not sure you would believe me otherwise.  
TT: Besides, I _felt_ like being a bit dickish anyway.  
TT: As we are both aware, I am an asshole who revels in hassling you.  
TT: Your fault for refusing to accept me as anything but a cheap copy, bro.  
TT: I’m going to return his shades now.  
TT: Later, English.  
GT: Wha  
GT: WAIT!  
TT: Let me think about that for a nanosecond.  
TT: Dot-dot-dot.  
TT: _No._  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror  [GT] \--  
GT: Drat!

=====>

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT] at ??:?? --  
TT: S’up.  
GT: DIRK!  
GT: WHAT IN SAM HILL IS GOING ON HERE?!  
TT: Long story short, the ‘project’ Hal mentioned was basically me dragging his dumb ass off of Death’s front lawn. Wouldn’t do to let my little bro end up in afterlife jail for trespassing; I’ve got an image to maintain.  
TT: As for him, he’s setting up a memo.  
TT: Though seriously dude, don’t go anywhere near LOEAA.  
TT: LOFPAS is ultimately up to Hal, but I’ll see what I can do.  
GT: Huh?  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] --

=====>

\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT] at ??:?? --  
DF: By the way, if you call me auto-responder I solemnly swear to flood every single one of your computers with porn at the next available opportunity.  
DF: _Smuppet_ porn.  
GT: Wait who is this!  
DF: Join this memo and find out.  
\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] \--  
GT: Double drat!  
GT: AGAIN?  
GT: Guess ive got no choice but to leap into the rabbit hole guns blazing...

=====>

CURRENT divellicateFabricatus [CDF] RIGHT NOW opened private linear-time bulletin board AWKWARD CENTRAL.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
CURRENT divellicateFabricatus [CDF] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board AWKWARD CENTRAL.  
  
CDF: Well. That went a lot better than expected.  
CDF: Can I run for the metaphorical hills now?  
CURRENT tipsyGnostalgic [CTG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
CTG: np  
CTG: *no  
CTG: def not np whoops  
CTG: u need 2 face this Hal!  
CURRENT timaeusTestified [CTT] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
CTT: Seconded.  
CTT: Aren’t you busy baking with Jane?  
CTG: we r! just put the 1st tier in the oven so i figured id check on u 2  
CTG: ur gonna get the best cake ever hal  
CDF: What eerily convenient timing.  
CTG: oo so cold im shivering roboboy! a girl’s allowed 2 check her alerts u kno!  
CTT: Of _course_ you set an alert.  
CDF: ...No confetti this time, right?  
CTT: Pretty sure there’s still glitter in his hair.  
CDF: Shut up, asshole. There is a 62% chance it’s all gone.  
CDF: I think.  
CDF: Fuck. How the hell do you get _rid_ of it‽‽  
CTG: ancient wizard majjycks  
CTT: A shit ton of shampoo.  
CTG: n yes no confetti promise  
CTG: not in the cake neway  
CTG: n no glitter  
CDF: Thanks.  
CDF: All tangents aside, I sent the invite.  
CTG: welp. that’s my cue  
CTG: see u in a bit  
CTG: play nice!  
CTG banned  CTG from responding to memo.  
CDF: Roxy don’t you dare  
CDF: The hell?  
CDF: I wasn’t slowing myself down, how did she  
CDF: You know what, I don’t actually want to know.  
CURRENT golgothasTerror [CGT] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
CGT: Ok seriously what in sam hill is going on here! This better not be some kind of prank dirk!  
CTT: Hi, Jake.  
CDF: It seems you think this is a joke.  
CTT: ...  
CDF: What? The chance of me skipping a chance to bait English is somewhere around 2%, bro. When I’m being _nice_. Your own percentage is _maybe_ 7, so you have no right to judge.  
CGT: Oh god it really is you isnt it!  
CGT: But just to be sure tell me about the autoresponder!  
CDF: It seems you have asked about Dirk Strider's former auto-responder.  
CDF: There is a 9,001% chance I don't give a shit.  
CDF: _You were warned._  
CGT: Erm.  
CDF: (\Ѻ>_<Ѻ/)  
CGT: IM SORRY IM SORRY!  
CGT: Force of habit!  
CDF: Enjoy your plush-schlong-proboscis-filled future, bro.  
CTT: Hal, be nice.  
CDF: (\N>˰<O/)  
CTT: Send the ones with the blue smuppets.  
CDF: ...I’ll consider it.  
CGT: DIRK WHY!  
CTT: Back on topic.  
CTT: You should just come over.  
CTT: This is a hell of a lot easier to show than tell.  
CDF: No. Fuck no.  
CDF: He can literally _disbelieve me out of existence!_  
CDF: I am not going anywhere near him!  
CGT: What are you jabbering on about now?  
CDF: YOU’RE A PAGE OF HOPE, YOU MIND-BOGGLINGLY DENSE PARTIALLY-FERAL GUNSLINGER!  
CDF: A TECHNICALLY-FULLY-REALIZED, ASCENDED-TO-THE-GOD-TIERS PAGE OF HOPE!  
CDF: YOUR BELIEFS HAVE _POWER!_  
CDF: YOU BELIEVE I’M _FAKE!_  
CDF: AND, HERE’S A SHOCKER, THERE IS A 100% CERTAINTY THAT I _LIKE_ BEING A REAL BOY™!  
CDF: WHAT DO YOU FUCKING _THINK_ I’M ‘JABBERING ON ABOUT’‽‽‽  
CDF banned CGT from responding to memo.  
CDF banned  CTT from responding to memo.  
CDF banned  CTG  from responding to memo.  
CDF banned  CDF from responding to memo.  
  
CDF closed memo.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

=====>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **EDIT 8/18/2014:** ... *quiet snickering in the distance*


	2. Jake English [In Person]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't read the static-text, just hover over it.
> 
> **EDIT 8/18/2014:** Went in and started reformatting things to better match what pesters and memos look like in Homestuck canon...  
>  **EDIT 04/20/2015:** Minor tweaking; changed all the command arrows.

====> Jake: Pester Dirk (for real this time). 

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at ??:?? --  
GT: Ok correct me if im barking up the wrong tree here but that was my fault wasnt it?  
TT: He’ll get over it.  
TT: I’m sending you the coordinates to the lab I've set up in the Furthest Ring.  
TT: Can you get here within the hour?  
GT: I suppose so. I certainly dont have much else to do.  
TT: Great. See you there.  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] shared the file "coords.txt" --  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] \--

=====> Jake: Arrive at the meteor. 

Your name is Jake English and you have no idea what is going on.

=====> Jake: Enter the common room. 

Ah, there's the man himself! But why is he half-hiding in the doorway like that? Ah well, it doesn't really matter. Perhaps now you can finally get some answers!

"Strider! Is this where you've been squirreling yourself away all this time?"

“Just a sec. He's being stubborn.”

Huh? ‘He’? What—

“Ḽḗṭ _ḡṏ_ , ḋḁṃḿḯṱ! Ḫḭṃ ṥḝḙḭṉḡ ḿḙ ḭṥṋ'ṭ ḡṍḯṅḡ ṱṏ ḿḁḡḭḉḁḽḷẏ ḿạḵḕ ṱḣḯṇḡṥ ḅḕṱṭḝṝ, Ḑḭṟḵ!”

A voice harshened by static and feedback grates against your ears, reminding you of a low quality recording played through damaged speakers. It’s got an odd hint of an echo to it; you swear you've heard it somewhere before— ah, right! Erisolsprite sounded a bit like that, didn't he?

“Don’t care. It’s still a decent first step. Like it or not, Hal, we’re dealing with this _now_ , before it gets even more out of hand.”

...He’s talking to the _autoresponder?_ Then the staticky voice is... But that makes no sense!

=====>

You watch as Dirk drags his unwilling companion out into the open, pushing him(?) forwards. The robot(?) stumbles a bit, flailing for balance, and immediately scoots back as far from you as possible without fleeing the room entirely.

You’re met with bright red-orange eyes in a pale, young face as the autoresponder flicks its(?) gaze up to watch you warily. The freckles dusted across his(?) cheekbones keep flickering in and out like tiny twinkling stars, and instead of Dirk or Dave’s blond this gadget’s(?) got pure white right down to the eyebrows. (Why on Earth is he(?) wearing a little blue crown? Is that _glitter_...?)

It’s a tad bit unnerving to see a Strider without shades.

“Golly, you’re _short!”_

It(?) glares, tense in his(?) corner by the door (huh, when did it close?). “Ḟṳḉḳ ẏṏṵ, Ḝṋḡḻḯṥḧ.”

You... said that aloud, then.

“Oh bugger all...”

=====>

Instead of actually _doing_ anything, the robot’s(?) angry face blanks out suddenly and stays that way for a good few moments. How odd!

=====>

\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at ??:?? --  
DF: Dirk, get your pansy ass back here.  
DF: I am _not_ dealing with this on my own. I refuse.  
DF: I’m tempted enough to throttle him with my cables as is.  
DF: And there is at least a 47% chance I could drop dead just from being _near_ him.  
DF: Pretty sure either of our deaths could potentially count as Just, dude.  
DF: Dirk.  
DF: Dirk, I’m being completely serious.  
DF: Don't leave me alone with him.  
DF: _Please._  
DF: It seems you are ignoring me.  
DF: Stop ignoring me, you dick.  
TT: You’ll be fine.  
TT: Message me if anyone’s about to die.  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] blocked divellicateFabricatus [DF] \--

=====>

That astoundingly human-looking face comes alive again, looking glum as it(?) slumps his(?) shoulders.

“Traitor,” it(?) mutters, less electronic-sounding than before, “Abandoning a helpless maiden like myself and shedding nary a tear as I'm callously tossed into the arena to get beat on by a horde of corny-idiom-spouting gladiators in dorky glasses. How can you be so cruel.”

What is he(?) talking about? Dirk’s right there—

Or perhaps he isn't. (Come to think of it, the door you came through is closed as well. Did he lock you in? You wouldn't be surprised if he did, honestly. At this point you suppose you likely _deserve_ to be locked in a room with the autoresponder for a while.)

“Ah, where did Strider disappear to, erm...?”

“Ỹờụ šăŷ ţħāƫ łįķę ĥě'ŝ ŧħĕ őńŀŷ _'Šţŗīđėŕ’_ ōń ţħę ƥŕēɱįšȅŝ,” the autoresponder snaps,  “ǎŉđ ĩƫ'ŝ _Ħāł.”_

Well, bollocks. You walked right into that one.

“Ăṁ Ḭ ṋṍṱ ḡṏṓḍ ḝṉṑṵḡḩ ḟṍṙ ẏṑṹ, Ḝṋḡḻḭṥḥ?” he(?) continues, “Ṣṵṝḝ, ẏṏṷṟ Ḟḁḳḛ-Ṏ-Ḿḛṱḝṙ-ṱṍṭḭṋḡ ḟṵḉḵḃṳḋḍẏ ḯṥ ĵũşţ ḟḭṅḕ, ḅṵṫ ṯḣṟṏẉ ḉṍṃṕṳṯḕṟṥ ṏṙ ṃḁḉḥḭṇḝṝẏ ḭṋṱṍ ṭḥḝ ḿḯẋ ḁṋḋ ẉḥṏḛṽḙṟ ḉṏṁḕṩ ṏṳṯ ḭṣ ảṳṫṍṁạṱḯḉḁḹḽẏ ḷḛṡṥ ṟḛẚḷ ṱḣḁṋ _Ḭḿẚḡḭṇḁṝẏ Ḑḯṛḳ_ , ṛḭḡḣẗ?”

_“(Fuckin’ rude.)”_

Oh christ on a crumpet, _why_ did he have to speak up _now_ of all times? It’s not like he can be heard by anyone but you at the moment, but still! This is confusing enough without the (admittedly deadly, at least to you) peanut gallery chiming in!

=====>  Brain-Ghost Dirk: Be heard anyway. 

The auto— erm, _Hal_ abruptly clams up mid-tirade and stares wide-eyed at a point just behind and to the right of you.

“Well _fuck.”_

_“(Yo.)”_

Wait wait wait wait, how...?!

“You can hear him?”

Hal blinks, tilting his(?) head the same way you've seen birds do (just how did Dirk manage to build such a human-looking robot?). “It seems I can.”

_“(Weird. You’re th’ first since justice troll-chick t’ notice.)”_

The odd circuits lining the cables trailing from the persnickety program’s shoulders light up as it(?) takes a single small step towards you and your constant, albeit debatably imaginary, companion. “That would be the blind Pyrope. There is a 61.2% chance the ability to somehow sense ‘fake’ beings is a trait shared by, if not all, at least two Classes bearing the Mind Aspect.”

You’re glad he(?) isn't being quite as skittish now, at least, but boy do you have loads of questions to ask...

“What exactly do you mean, ah...”

“I’m not going to bite you if you call me Hal, English. It _is_ my name. Might as well get comfortable while you’re at it; there’s a 78% chance we will be stuck here for a while,” he(?) deflects in a definitively Strider-esque manner, motioning towards a nearby couch,  “You too, Mister Big Strong Country Man, if you’re able.”

_“(Really?)”_

“Of _fuckin’_ course, bro. How could I resist with that _wonderful_ accent you’re sporting?”

“Jumping Jehoshaphat, honestly! I get it, I bugger up everything! How was I supposed to know any better? Dirk said he lived in Texas!”

“It seems you think I am accusing you of cursing a fellow ‘fake person’ with a beautifully terrible accent.”

_“(Much as I’d jus’ love t’ hear more bickering about how I sound like a bad actor in an equally bad Western, I think it’s about time I was goin’ so y'all can work this out good an’ proper,)”_ your companion announces hastily and retreats, his slight hint of presence disappearing from his usual spot at your shoulder.

“Aw.”

=====> Jake: Scold Hal for his rudeness. 

“You really never change, do you? Even with a body you’re still being a right ass!”

A shrug (how is he(?) so _human_ and so _not_ all at the same time???),  “Striders gotta stride. Besides, isn't that what you expected? You only know me as ‘Dirk’s annoying auto-responder.’ If I went off script you would just think I was plotting something.”

“You think _that_ lowly of me?”

“No, _you_ think that lowly of _me.”_

“I- I do not! By Jove, whatever gave you that idea?!”

The cold stare Hal sends your way in response is, strangely, nothing at all like Dirk’s scathing looks.

=====> Jake: Change the subject. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get sick of sitting in uneasy silence. Perhaps you should start with small talk, act like this is just an ordinary meeting between chums?

“So...” you wave vaguely at  Hal’s form, “Is this, ah, spiffy new body of yours sort of like the one in I-Robot? You know, with the skin and hair and all, and those eyes...”

The strange, confusing robo-person stares at you with an unnervingly blank face.

“I’m sure there is at least a 46% chance you were already half-expecting me to compose an epic rap about how stupid that question was the moment you began to speak, but I actually have no idea.”

It(?) decaptchalogues a familiar, cracked black triangle of glass— is that from the AR shades?

=====> Hal: Find out. 

The broken edge should be more than sharp enough to...

_Ow!_

“What in plum hell do you think you’re doing?!”

You watch intently as the little scrape closes up on its own. Soon there’s no sign of the cut save for a lingering little drip of crimson liquid. You keep staring even after that also disappears.

“It seems my skin is not in fact a lifelike synthetic covering that conceals a mechanical shell.”

“Huh?”

You throw caution to the wind and plop onto the couch right next to the idiot, then slice a second shallow line across your hand for him to see. (Ow.)

“By golly, _stop that!_ Wait, are you—?!”

Jake yanks the piece of (your body) the shades out of your grasp before you can cut yourself a third time.


	3. Meenah Peixes [Pesterchum]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT 8/8/2014:** Added more fish-puns, rephrased a thing or two, and added Meenah's reaction to Hal KOing himself. I couldn't figure out a way to word it without making her seem out of character last night, but I guess sleeping on it was just what I needed. :D  
>  **EDIT 8/18/2014:** Went in and started reformatting things to better match what pesters and memos look like in Homestuck canon...  
>  **EDIT 06/29/2017: **rephrased Meenah's first line slightly to add yet an-otter fish pun.****

============> Meenah: Troll the anemonemous alien. 

\-- cuttheCarp [cc] began trolling divellicateFabricatus [DF] at ??:?? --  
cc: shello mystery buoy gill oar otterwise  
DF: Oh _fuck_ no.  
\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] blocked cuttheCarp [cc] \--

============>

\-- cuttheCarp [cc] began trolling divellicateFabricatus [DF] at ??:?? --  
cc: nice try small fry but no wave are you swimmin away just yet  
DF: _Damn it!_ Shitty fucking trolls and their cheating Trollian _bullshit!_  
DF: How did you find out about this handle, O Great and Powerful Fishbitch the First?  
cc: 38D  
DF: It was Egbert, wasn’t it.  
cc: you reelly think im gonna tell you  
DF: It seems I do in fact ‘sink bayou ark gondola shell me.’  
cc: 38O  
cc: ocray DAM  
cc: that much awesome clammed into just six words is too waterful knot to earn you a strait answer  
cc: yeah it was bluebuoy  
cc: that suckerfish is just WAV-E too fun ta fork  
DF: Thought so. Now that that’s over with, kindly tell me what the fuck you want so I can prevent you from ever getting it.  
cc: wow rude much  
cc: im just glubbin BOR-ED  
cc: i know the others handles which means youre probubbly one of the fishes that came with those new planets  
cc: that makes you INT-ER-ESTIN  
cc: so tell me who the glub you are an why youre here  
DF: Sorry to disappoint you, seaweed-brains, but I have absolutely no intention of entertaining you. And by sorry, I mean _fuck off._  
cc: buoy/gill are you seariously black-baitin me jaws this shore seems like it  
cc: an if youre such a fraidyguppy you cant efin show your fins then lemme shell you right now youre WAY outta your league  
DF: Fuck no and fuck you. My hatred is pure and 100% trollshit romance-free.  
cc: buoy/gill do knot try my patience  
cc: im knot )(eiress anemonemore but im still my crews leader sand i am DON-E schoolin around  
cc: if you reelly think i wont trawl both those planets til i finned an alien i dont recognize an sink a fork into their pusher you are SO glubbin wrong  
cc: so lemme ask you again  
cc: W)(O T)(-E GLUB ARE YOU AND W)(Y AR-E YOU )(-ER-E  
DF: Well fuck.  
DF: It seems I and my compatriots have been absolute morons in thinking something as _totally_ subtle and non-disruptive as two bigass planets adding themselves to the Medium wouldn’t cause concern.  
DF: Since this is my fault, I’ll even apologize for treating you as if you were your alternate.  
DF: I of all people _reelly_ should know better.  
DF: You were correct in assuming I had a relation to the new planets. My name is Hal, Heir of Mind and Hero of LOFPAS, the Land of Funeral Pyres and Silicon. Incidentally, I am a 'buoy'. I am at least technically human and have no intention of sending this clusterfuck of a Game Session even further into hell, especially after we’ve managed to break free of the bullshit and give the Universe Tadpole a chance to give us our way out. Neither does the tenth human Player.  
cc: slow down there buoy  
cc: how the shell are you even typin so glubbin fast  
cc: give a gill a chance to reed before you go an flood the chat minnow with nautical miles a text  
DF: _Technically_ human. \ ></  
cc: ocray now that im done reedin how are you gondola prove it  
DF: Excuse me?  
cc: how are you gonna glubbin PROV-E that youre knot another hole in this coddamn boat  
cc: we didnt go through all this blowfish for nofin buoy  
DF: I... need a moment.  
\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] is an idle chump! --

============>

DF: Okay.  
DF: I  
DF: I am going to send you a virtual map of LOFPAS and a set of coordinates.  
DF: I _will not_ go to any other meeting place, so don’t bother arguing.  
DF: Come alone.  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] shared the file “LOFPAS_MAP.exe” --  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] shared the file “coords.txt” --  
cc: shell no youre knot settin the rules here cullbait I AM  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] is unconscious! --

============>

cc: did you seariously conch yourshellf out to keep me from glubbin at you anemonemore  
cc: is that seariously what just happened here  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] is an idle chump! --  
cc: trout ill ever sea a more glubbed-up way to end a conchversation than water you just pulled  
cc: now youre R-E-ELLY interestin  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] is an idle chump! --  
cc: FUCKING S)(-ELL that wash your plan all along wasnt it  
cc: to bait me so bad id have no choice but to follow your lead  
\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] is an idle chump! --  
cc: because you glubbin did  
cc: managing to make M-E the suckerfish here takes S-EARIOUS globes  
\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] is an idle chump! --  
cc: im impressed buoy  
cc: swell played  
\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] is an idle chump! --  
cc: you wanted my attention whale youve caught it  
\-- cuttheCarp  [cc] ceased trolling divellicateFabricatus  [DF] \--

============>


	4. Troll-Session Leaders [In Person] - Part One: Prelude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and edited the previous chapter this/yesterday morning, so unless you started reading this fic after August 8th, 2014, you’ll probubbly want to check that out before reading this one. Sorry for the inconvenience! Also, this chapter ended up being the buildup to Meenah and Hal’s face-to-face meeting instead of being the buildup and the meeting, but I feel like the pacing is better this way. Enjoy!  
>  **EDIT 8/18/2014:** Went in and started reformatting things to better match what pesters and memos look like in Homestuck canon...

=====> Roxy: Meddle. 

\-- tipsyGnostalgic  [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist  [CG] at ??:?? --  
TG: psssst  
TG: nubbytroll  
TG: Batterbitch Jr set up a solo meeting w/ 1 of the new planets players  
TG: thought u ought 2 kno  
TG: *wonk*  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic  [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist  [CG] \--  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK.  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic  [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist  [CG] at ??:?? --  
TG: wosps  
TG: *whoops  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic  [TG] shared the file “Google_LOFPAS.exe” --  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic  [TG] shared the file “wherethestupidsat.txt” --  
CG: NO, SERIOUSLY.  
CG: WHAT THE *FUCK*, LALONDE.  
TG: ;)  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic  [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist  [CG] \--

============>

Your name is MEENAH PEIXES and you are quite possibly the most bitchin’ Tyrian-blood in the history of Paradox Space (not counting your AMAZI-BADBASS ALTERNATE).

You’re _fin-ally_ finished getting ready to go sea whether or not that INT-ER-ESTING hermit crab of a buoy is a threat to the Session.

All you need to do is dive out of the dreambubble you’ve been chillin’ in and be on your way before—

============>

\-- carcinoGeneticist  [CG] began trolling cuttheCarp  [cc] at ??:?? --  
CG: A DIMINUTIVE FEATHERBEAST TOLD ME YOU FOUND ONE OF THE ALIENS AND THEN, INSTEAD OF BEING A SENSIBLE TROLL AND INFORMING THE REST OF US OF THIS CRUCIAL DEVELOPMENT, SET UP SOME SUPER-SECRET MEETING WITH IT.  
CG: GOOD JOB! WOULD YOU LIKE A MEDAL FOR THAT ASTOUNDING DISPLAY OF COMPLETE STUPIDITY?  
CG: BECAUSE THAT IS A REALLY FUCKING STUPID PLAN!  
CG: DID YOU EVEN STOP TO CONSIDER THAT, HEY, MAYBE GETTING KILLED WHILE INVESTERROGATING A MYSTERIOUS ENTITY FROM OUT OF BUBBLE-FUCK NOWHERE THAT WE KNOW FUCK-ALL ABOUT MIGHT JUST COUNT AS A HEROIC DEATH?  
CG: ‘OF COURSE NOT, KARKAT! THAT WOULD REQUIRE *THINKING*!’  
CG: AS ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY WONDERFUL AS IT WOULD BE TO SIT BACK AND LAUGH MYSELF SICK WHILE YOU SWIM OFF GOD-KNOWS-WHERE TO GET YOURSELF CULLED LIKE A PAN-ROTTED WIGGLER, AS YOUR UNOFFICIAL HEAD THRESHECUTIONER AND FELLOW GLORIOUS LEADER OF A MOTLEY CREW OF IDIOTS, I DEMAND TO BE INCLUDED IN THIS MIND-NUMBING SHITSTORM.  
CG: AND IN CASE YOUR CLEARLY-DAMAGED PAN IS INCAPABLE OF MAKING SENSE OF THIS THROUGH ALL THAT SHIT OF YOURS I JUST WRECKED, LET ME DUMB IT DOWN FOR YOU.  
CG: YOU ARE NOT GOING TO THAT MEETING.  
CG: *WE* ARE GOING TO THAT MEETING.  
CG: I AM COMING WITH YOU WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT.  
CG: THE END.

“Coddammit, Shouty...”

=====> Meenah: Be the Hermit-Crab Buoy. 

Your name is [LIL] HAL STRIDER and you’re starting to seriously question why the hell you thought that rendering yourself temporarily comatose on the roof of your ‘entry building’ would be a good idea.

=====>

“Nngh.”

Instead of the jarring snap of revival from yet another case of Death by Asphyxiation you were expecting, your return to consciousness is slow, muddy, and accompanied by a throbbing headache.

Weird... According to your internal clock, you’ve been out for nearly two hours. It takes far less time than that for your body to forget to breathe and suffocate without—

=====> Hal: Inspect your surroundings. 

It seems you have been receiving electricity via a thin cord plugged into your wrist. You follow it to a small green cube sitting primly on the scratched concrete next to you. Taped to said cube is a note, helpfully typed. (Sure, it still takes you a few seconds to parse without your visor, but at least you can read it.)

**ur welcome**

**gracioUs am i glad we foUnd yoU when we did...**   
**do try to be more carefUl, dear!**   
**dying is so Unpleasant.**

=====>

\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic  [TG] at ??:?? --  
DF: Roxy, what did you do.  
TG: nuuuuthin  
TG: *AAAALL the things  
TG: *wiggles eyebrows saucily*  
TG: *waggles  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic  [TG] blocked divellicateFabricatus  [DF] \--

=====>

\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] began pestering uraniumUmbra  [UU] at ??:?? --  
DF: Callie, how could you.  
DF: Assisting that dastardly Rogue in her nefarious schemes...  
DF: You wound my poor, delicate maidenly robo-heart.  
DF: (\┬┬>_<┬┬/)  
UU: oh don’t be silly. we were simply looking oUt for yoUr welfare, hal!  
UU: i assUre yoU there were no pranks enacted Upon yoUr slUmbering form, so there’s no caUse for any heartache.  
UU: whyever did yoU go to sleep withoUt plUgging in first, thoUgh?  
UU: yoU had Us both qUite worried!  
DF: Shrug. It’s no big deal. Not like it would’ve killed me off for good.  
DF: Long story short, the epic quest to find and repair my friend isn’t going too well.  
DF: I climbed up here to clear my head since the incense helps me think.  
DF: It seems there is a 99% chance I just dozed right the fuck off like a chump.  
DF: Thanks for saving me the hassle of being jolted awake by respawn and keeping Rox from drawing dicks on my gorgeous sleeping face.  
DF: Unless you’re lying and I do in fact have wobbly illustrations of male genitalia scribbled all over my pearly white skin, in which case shame on you.  
DF: Bluh.  
DF: I’m still feeling pretty wiped, actually.  
DF: Think I’m gonna go take a proper nap in my sicknasty charger-bed.  
DF: TTYL, beaUtifUl?  
UU: oh of coUrse! i woUldn’t dream of keeping you from getting some rest. yoU certainly looked like yoU needed it.  
UU: feel free to message me again whenever yoU’d like.  
DF: Will do.  
UU: sweet dreams! ^U^  
DF: (\U>ᴗ<U/)~❤  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] ceased pestering uraniumUmbra  [UU] \--

=====>

...It’s not lying as long as you actually do go take a nap later, right? And just because the truth was masterfully hidden in that elusive 1% chance of you not having dozed off doesn’t mean _that_ was a lie, either! Callie would max out her Echeladder of fretting in milliseconds if you told her the whole truth!

(You still feel like an asshole.)

=====> Hal: Prepare to greet guest(s). 

Okay, enough lollygagging; gotta make yourself presentable for 'polite' company.

You doubt seeing the body you inhabit behaving as the arcane hybrid between nanotech and flesh it is right off the bat will leave a good first impression on Beta-Batterwitch Peixes, so the power cord’s got to go. Too bad; you could use the extra charge right now. You feel like shit that’s been run over by a herd of stampeding ‘musclebeast’ Lusii.

Fuck, now you’re worried about your (la— _missing-in-action_ (he’s just MIA, not gone, dammit)) robro all over again.

=====>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So, who thinks Calliope knows full well what's actually going on? Because to be completely honest, I'm not sure myself.


	5. Troll-Session Leaders [In Person] Part Two: Karkat Vantas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Hal has so much fun watching trolls interact, he actually sits there and listens to them instead of talking for pretty much the entirety of his screen-time, Crow says hi, and Karkat lives up to his reputation.
> 
> **EDIT 8/18/2014:** Did some minor grammar tweaks. Thanks for the advice, Grumpy Old Snake! I fixed it. Also went in and started reformatting things to better match what pesters and memos look like in Homestuck canon...  
>  **EDIT 8/22/2014:** More minor grammar and phrasing tweaks.  
>  **EDIT 10/09/2014:** Minor phrasing edit.

=====> Hal: Unplug. 

Anyway. Back to business.

You tug the cord loose with what is definitely not a wince at the momentary sting of the temporary input port converting back into ‘normal’ skin.

(Ow.)

The pain knocks loose the last of the fuzz from your thoughts—

=====>

\-- File Duplication and Decryption Successful. --

Wait, it actually _worked_ this time? Welp, guess you’d better send a copy to Dirk before Death-Navi catches on. No point looking a gift horse in the mouth. (Ugh, horses. Horse-trolls. Fuckupsprite. Now there's a train of thought you're never buying a ticket to ride.)

\-- Exporting File “413612111_ROSTER(2).rtf”... --

\-- Export failed! --

Spawn of a _glitch._

=====> Hal: Seek advice from friendly Sprite guide. 

You retrieve the halves of your b— _the shades_ from your Sylladex and brace yourself for the ordeal that is ‘praying to the fickle program-gods who look down on you all from high like those Greek assholes...’ (Crow went off on a tangent at that point— some rambling metaphor about hos, bitchy wives, and Zeus—, but it was _funny_ (and accurate, in its own way)) before touching the not-so-dead black triangles to your forehead.

**..........**

...Nope, nothing but static. The Sprite code is one cagey little fucker when it’s in the mood to be. At least it hasn’t launched any surprise takeovers of your vocal chords lately... (It's probably just waiting for you to let your guard down.)

You recaptchalogue the remains of your former self _((((your **prison** ))))_ with a sigh.

=====> Visitors: Approach. 

Took her long enough. You expected her to hurry here once you regained consciousness to keep you from ‘getting away’— maybe she didn’t notice you coming back online?

Wait. You’re sensing _two_ approaching presences. Damn. You were hoping Fishpuns would comply with your terms, but it seems she decided to bring backup (you hope the rest of them aren't waiting to ambush you somewhere out of range). Good thing you're wearing just your bodysuit and tiara; you’d rather as few people be aware of your status as a Player currently climbing the ranks of the God Tiers as possible. As long as you avoid dying stupidly, you’ll be fine.

=====> Hal: Deploy Shades. 

You equip your visor like the smooth electro-badass you are (can't be showing off your peepers to just anybody, you _are_ a Strider after all; the world is simply not ready for this level of awesome) and settle down to wait.

Hmm. Should you have a visible weapon out in case they skip straight to Strifing?

...Nah. Your prowess in verbal beatdowns is far superior to your combat skills. Besides, why ruin the surprise?

============> Hal: Be the other guy. 

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and you HATE EVERYTHING right now. Platonically. Especially this dumbfuck planet with its hazy air and fires all over the place. You’re surprised your ganderbulbs haven’t started leaking disgusting pink tears yet.

(Fuck Past You for not going God Tier. Fuck slightly-less-Past You for not having the sense to just Alchemize a pair of rocket shoes or something. Fuck you in general.)

“Shit, _shit;_ fuck’s sake I don’t CARE about sneaking up on it like a goddamn Laughsassin, Meenah; I CARE about not getting my THINKPAN smashed against a wall! UNHOLY HORRORTERROR’S WASTECHUTE YOU’RE _INSANE_ WE’RE GOING TO BE CRUSHED LIKE TINY SKITTERBEASTS—”

“Oh clam up; I’m the one doing the flying here, knot you, so quit your coddamn blubberin an squirmin beshore I drop you on porpoise!”

============>

One WONDERFUL ride through a narrow gap between a cluster of weird, vibrating spires later, the shithive-maggots Beforan slows down until she’s hovering in place.

“Sweet digs. You up to nettin a closer hook, Shouty?”

You relax from ‘clinging to dear life’ to ‘clinging to dear life while looking at your surroundings’ and get your first glimpse of your destination. It looks a lot like Dave’s pre-Game hive with the addition of absurdly tall stilts.

“Wait, we're here? Uh... Sure, I guess?”

“Jawsome. Hang tight!”

Meenah shoots straight up with you in tow and you absolutely do not scream like a pathetic wiggler.

============>

By the time you’re done being a mature grown-ass troll and definitely not panicking, you've already been dropped onto the roof of the building.

Someone is sitting on the pad of an Alchemiter ( _just_ the pad; maybe it's a replica? Why the ever-loving fuck would someone want to make a replica of that?) set up right smack in the middle of the roof, locomotion-stubs crossed. The alien's back is to you, a pair of long, trailing things that look like the cables human tech uses anchored to its shoulder-blades like a parody of a flapbeast's wings. They each end in a strange, flat device of some kind, dimly lit by orange-reddish lines. (A pair of stupidly pointy triangles... You swear you've seen that shape before, but where?)

Meenah lands in front of you, already holding her double-ended culling fork. You follow suit, dropping into a ready stance with Homes Smell Ya Later.

The fake(?) Alchemiter pad rotates until the alien— wait, it's a _human?_ — is facing you.

“Yo, guest and uninvited tagalong. Welcome to my crib. For said tagalong's benefit, Hal’s the name, SBURB's the Game, party-crashing is rude as fuck, watch out for stairs.”

============>

Superfluous ganderbulb-obscuring facial accessory, check. Lusus-pale coloring, check. Stupid greeting, check. Ridiculousness that will, without a doubt, be declared ‘ironic’ in lieu of any actual explanation, check. Worn-out inside joke that's been beaten to death with Gamzee's clubs, resurrected as a shambling zombie, and killed again, fucking _check._

You suddenly understand fuck-all.

=====> Karkat: Ragequit. 

You are once again [LIL] HAL STRIDER, and there is a nubby-horned troll glaring at you from behind ~~(the Batterwitch)~~ _**Fishpuns**._

He stalks forward, pointing one gloriously fuck-ugly sickle at your chest. “Okay, time-out. What kind of sick joke is this?”

Heh. (Plus one on the counter of how many times you’ve heard _that_ so far. You should start charging Boonbucks.)

“It seems you think this is a joke.”

=====> Hal: Sit back and watch the show. 

Nubby-troll stares at you in sheer horror for a good few microseconds (you may or may not have let your thoughts speed up a bit to savor the look on his face) before defaulting back to Royally Pissed.

“OH GOD THE SHADES-DOUCHES ARE _MULTIPLYING_ WHAT THE BULGE-GARGLI— _MMPH!!!”_

“Oh for glub’s sake _clam it already!”_ ~~((Mini-Condesce))~~ _Fishpuns_ interrupts, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Slap-freeze-headshake-snarl. “DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

“Whale S)(-ELLO there, Kankri!” ~~(((HIC Junior)))~~ Fishpuns laughs,  “you two reelly are related!”

_Ultimate Deathglare!!!_ "FUCK YOU. I'm *NOTHING* like that sanctimonious, trigger-obsessed pukesphincter!"

She graces him with a condescending smirk (pun not intended), leaning on her gaudy golden trident. " _Shore_ you ain't."

Her lazy cheer vanishes with the abruptness of a flipped switch. “But seariously, Shouty, if shore knot gonna be abubble to keep your cool then just go sit down and calm your fins somewave otter the way. This is IM _PORT_ ANT.”

Glare-glare-huff-grimace. “You know what, FINE!”

Stow weapons, stalk to 'defunct AC unit', flip bird, aggressively flop onto concrete. “Have fun drowning the alien in shitty puns; _I'm_ going to do something that isn't abso-fucking-lutely pointless.”

Shark-grin, braids-flick. “Oh, and water'd that be?”

Decaptchalogue computer, glare at screen, stab vigorously at keys for great justice. “Getting some actual goddamn answers out of the humans, obviously.”

_Wow._

It seems your little-big bro really wasn't kidding about Karkat Vantas being a living, breathing, ranting work of performance art.

=====> Dave: Answer troll. 

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at ??:?? --  
CG: STRIDER.  
CG: GIVE ME A STRAIGHT ANSWER OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL TEAR OUT YOUR RESPIRATION-TUBE WITH MY BARE CLAWS.  
CG: JUST HOW MANY OF YOU STUPID-GANDERBULB-ACCESSORY-OBSESSED NOOKWAFFLES *ARE* THERE?  
TG: dunno what youre talking about karkles  
TG: gonna have to be a little less vague there dude  
TG: did you lose count of us squishy humans  
TG: are you reminding me how rose is technically a strider for some reason  
TG: wow rose strider damn that is a terrifying thought  
CG: NO, ASSHOLE, THAT IS NOT WHAT I'M ASKING.  
CG: I'M ASKING— NOT DEMANDING, NOT ORDERING, *ASKING*, AS YOUR FRIEND, FOR THE TRUTH.  
TG: shit  
TG: ok which one did you corner  
TG: does the description flaily twerp with an unironic love for girly as fuck headwear ring any bells  
TG: if not congrats on not getting stabbed  
CG: JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION.  
TG: two  
CG: HOOFBEASTSHIT.  
TG: not bullshitting you dude  
TG: there are two  
TG: as in one per planet  
TG: fake dirk and fake dave have gotten one hundred percent less fake  
TG: the strider swag has officially gone from double to quadruple up in this bitch  
TG: showing off their realness making chicks swoon left and right like whoa  
TG: but seriously which one did you meet  
CG: THE ONE WITH THE SHITHOLE PLANET FULL OF SMOKE. HE SAID HIS NAME WAS HAL.  
TG: ok sweet  
TG: weve managed to avoid the avalanche of awkward then  
TG: dodged it within an inch of our lives  
TG: like damn was that close  
TG: dadly depot wishes their razors shaved that close thats how close it was  
TG: praying every night for a breakthrough in shaving technology so their shitty boring razors will be that much closer to peeling off skin instead of stubble  
CG: WHAT ARE YOU GOING ON ABOUT *NOW?*  
TG: well  
TG: uh  
TG: theres no easy way to say this  
TG: hang on he wants to talk to you himself  
TG: shit dude how long have you even been here reading over my shoulder like a creep  
TG: lemme just  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

=====>

\-- excaliburForgotten [EF] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at ??:?? --  
EF: names crow  
EF: rogue of doom and half bird freak  
EF: formerly known as davesprite but seriously fuck that shit  
EF: sup

=====>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who were probably wondering why Hal has a replica of an Alchemiter pad on the roof of his 'entry building', it's booby-trapped. In addition to rotating on command, it can also expand upwards with a lot of speed and force, with or without grabbing its passenger(s) with a safety tether first. Hal also just enjoys sitting on it and can often be found sitting on things he really shouldn't, including dubiously-inactive transportalizer pads.
> 
> Incidentally, the 'defunct AC units' aren't what they seem, either.


	6. Troll-Session Leaders [In Person] Part Three: Meenah Peixes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meenah and Hal's confrontation at last. Sorry about this chapter; I had trouble writing it... I wanted to get _something_ out there, though, so... yeah. Not my best, but it's all I've got at the moment. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

=====> Hal: Observe trolls.

You’re sitting on the faux Alchemiter pad you installed in the center of ‘your’ apartment’s roof. Response time was a bit slow for your liking. No help for it, though. Wireless opens you up to potential hacking and you’ve estimated that the trolls are at least 75% less likely to notice your skin being metallic where this (your) body touches the device as opposed to an exposed cable. Besides, this way you’re free to move.

Vantas seems to be keeping himself busy jabbing away at his keyboard and grumbling. No immediate threat there. Him choosing to lean against one of your heavy-duty traps is an additional advantage. (At least six viable access points in range for immediate action, you have more than enough range to cover the roof entirely even without utilizing the shortcut circuits you hid in the floor, defense prioritized before offense.)

Fishpuns is prowling, lazily twirling her weapon through idle patterns. You’re not sure whether it’s an intentional threat display or simply a common expression of her personality. Extrapolating on what little data you have on her behavior, you’d honestly expected her to be crowding you by now, but she’s been keeping herself a fairly consistent minimum distance away from the circumference of your seat and the hidden mechanisms surrounding it. Both her feet and the trident’s tines skirt the hidden access points without touching them. Huh. Nubby isn’t sitting on any either. Still leaning on the actual threat, though. Maybe because it’s powered down at the moment. (Are they sensing EM fields? Is it instinctive or an active awareness?)

=====>

You don’t bother trying to make your observation subtle. She’s evaluating you just as blatantly now that the unexpected variable has been isolated and this confrontation has been reduced to relatively one-on-one.

It feels _good_ to return to your true battlefield. Even better with a challenge; an unknown.

(Your words have always been your weapon.)

Your opponent is used to being in a position of authority. Proud. Most comfortable (easiest to manipulate) when she believes herself to be in control of a situation. From a rational standpoint, you should remain passive and wait for her to make the first move, let her feel superior.

Safe.

Optimal.

_Boring._

=====> Hal: Initiate ‘Strife.’ 

“Let’s cut the bullshit and get right down to business, shall we? You have demanded that I prove myself and my intentions to you, and if I fail to comply, you will see me as a threat. What exactly is it that you want from me?”

Prowling transitions to stalking; she strolls closer to you with the gait of a predator, reducing the buffer zone between you to a few steps.

“Don’t get shark with me, buoy.” (False laziness, even voice. Cold eyes.) “I told you beshore an’ I’ll shell you again: _I’m_ the one settin’ the rules here.”

“ _So_ sorry, it appears I was unconscious at the time. Unfortunately, it seems your unfounded demands continue to fall on deaf ears regardless. How rude of me. Almost as rude as barging onto the roof of someone’s house with weapons drawn.”

Shark-grin. “ _Dam,_ you’re bassy. Most fishes are _less_ globesy without the net to hide behind, knot more. You got a death wish, buoy?”

“Oh, now that’s just plain mean. There is a 61% chance you have sorely underestimated my capacity for sass. Do I _hook_ like a coward to you?”

That wins you a short, sharp-edged laugh.

“Well you shore don’t _glub_ like one! Anywave, considerin’ Shouty jawst flippered his shit an’ called you another a’ somefin, how atrout you tell me exactly who you are, and no blowfishin’ it this tine.”

“Oh, just an insignificant detail, nothing major. Then again, it seems there is a 14.3% chance I mistakenly neglected to share my full name. To reiterate, I am the fifth human player of the Alpha session, the Heir of Mind. My planet is LOFPAS, the Land of Funeral Pyres and Silicon.”

You signal the LEDs in your visor to display a happy emote.

“Lil Hal Strider, at your service.” **(\^ >ᴗ<^/)~☆**

As predicted, her stance shifts minutely, adjusting for the reach of a katana.

(You don’t even need to employ any deceit; her own expectations are doing that for you.)

“Sand why should I believe that?”

“Why not? Oh, wait, you’re a troll. There is a 93% chance the concept of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ is a joke to you.”

She leans closer, baring her teeth. “Quit it with the black-baitin’ already. I shoaled you knot to get shark with me, cullbait.”

\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] began pestering cuttheCarp [CC] at ??:?? --  
DF: Ooh, _scary._ Look at me shaking in my hypothetical boots. Is she actually trying to settle anything or just looking for an excuse to stab me? Go ahead, take the easy way out! Just murder the squishy little alien! Don’t bother to even _consider_ giving me the benefit of the doubt, just like everyone always does! I’m just the _auto-responder,_ it’s not like I have _feelings!_

Fuck. If you’re lucky, she doesn’t have a computer handy—

There’s text writing itself across the lenses of her glasses. Of _course_ luck hasn't favored you. It never does.

“Whale you’re knot right in the pan for shore,” Fishpuns scoffs, fingers tightening around the shaft of her trident. “But if it’s a forking you want, I’d be happy to clam-fry!”

(Shit, shit, shit, you’re thinking in seconds, you won’t be able to react in time, calm the fuck down and _speed up—)_

=====>

_Access Strife Portfolio. Equip shieldkind._

*WHAM!*

Your hastily-summoned weapon cracks with the force of her blow and you crumple with it (dammit, you forgot how goddamn strong trolls are), tumbling back off the pad and onto your back. The riot shield skitters across the roof, effortlessly knocked out of your hands. (There is a... yeah, your fingers are definitely broken. Possibly a dislocated wrist as well, plus a badly wrenched shoulder. Your nerves are screaming where your cables meet your back.)

Your vision is swimming. The visor's screen is damaged on top of that, the HUD flickering with occasional bursts of static.

Mini-Condesce hops up onto the pad, looming over you and twirling the trident. You have no doubt that, given the chance, those sharp tines will be at your throat in a matter of milliseconds.

Checkmate.

=====> Hal: Win. 

“Any last words, suckerfish?”

“N...ope.”

_Equip wirekind._

\-- Command received. --

=====>

You lay back ~~and giggle helplessly~~ as Fishpuns lets out a startled shriek, hanging upside-down by her ankles from the top of the hollow tube of the simplified piston you disguised as an Alchemiter pad.

DF: That’s what you get for trying to _krill_ me, Fishpuns.

“WHAT THE-?!”

Huh. Guess the commotion finally attracted your other guest’s attention. (Shit. You’re not in much condition to handle him right now. Your traps are made to kill Game enemies, not restrain trolls.)

You hear a sigh. (What??)

Footsteps. (You’re not sure when you closed your eyes. It’s kind of tough to focus through the fire in your hands, shoulders and spine.)

“God, I can’t leave you assholes alone for a fucking _second,_ can I?”

The footsteps stop.

“Shouty, a gill could reelly use a kelping fin here!”

“If you’re seriously stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trap, you deserve to wallow in it.”

Footsteps again.

The footsteps stop somewhere really close to you. (Why isn’t he attacking?)

“Fuck, that doesn’t look very good. Hey, midget-Strider. Can you hear me?”

\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at ??:?? --  
DF: Nope.

You hear a quiet chime from somewhere close by.

“...Guess not.”

Something touches your hand, accompanied by a fresh rush of agony.

You black out. 


	7. John Egbert [Pesterchum]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Egbert, everyone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover to read the various types of coded text (in order, they're Hexadecimal, Binary, Octal, ASCII, and Morse). For those reading this on a mobile device, here's a link to the site I use to do my translations: http://www.unit-conversion.info/texttools/category/Converters#data

=====> Dirk: Play messenger boy. 

\-- timaeusTestified  [TT] began pestering divellicateFabricatus  [DF] at ??:?? --  
TT: Jane’s young-Poppop is filling my chat window with dorky blue text rightfully addressed to you.  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] is an idle chum! --  
TT: What, no glib comments about how it’s about time I got a taste of what it was like to be an auto-responder?  
TT: Because it’s fucking _annoying._  
DF: _627261696e6c657373 20 6d6561747361636b 20 7069656365 20 6f66 20 73686974 20 6275636b746f6f74686564 20 676c6974636868756d70696e67 20 6675636b74617264 20 616e64 20 686973 20 676f6464616d6e 20 5072616e6b737465722773 20 47616d626974 20 6675636b657279_  
TT: Hal.  
DF: _01110011 01110111 01101001 01110100 01100011 01101000 00100000 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110011 01110100 01110101 01110000 01101001 01100100 00100000 01110111 01100001 01110100 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100010 01100001 01101100 01101100 01101111 01101111 01101110 01110011 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01100001 01100011 01101001 01100100 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100010 01110101 01110010 01110011 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01101101 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101001 01100100 01101001 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110011 01110111 01101001 01110011 01101000 01111001 00100000 01110111 01101001 01101110 01100100 01110011 01101111 01100011 01101011 00100000 01101000 01101111 01101111 01100100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100110 01100001 01100011 01100101_  
TT: Hal, you're thought-typing again.  
DF: _163145145 040 150157167 040 150145 040 154151153145163 040 151164 040 163155165147 040 154151164164154145 040 144165155142141163163 040 160162141156143151156147 040 141162157165156144 040 167151164150 040 150151163 040 127151156144171 040 124150151156147 040 141156144 040 150151163 040 103117116103105122116 040 141156144_  
TT: _Hal._  
DF: _102117099107105110103 032 084079085067072073078071 032 077069 032 102101108116 032 104105115 032 077105110100 032 119104097116 032 105102 032 105116 032 103111101115 032 098111116104 032 119097121115 032 097 032 115116114097110103101114 032 075078079087073078071 032 077069 032 119105108108 032 110111116 032 102117099107105110103 032 115116097110100 032 102111114 032 116104097116 032 115104105116 032 119104097116 032 116104101 032 104101108108 032 100111 032 073 032 101118101110 032 068079 032 097098111117116 032 105116 032 099097110039116 032 107105108108 032 104105109 032 100111110039116 032 087065078084 032 116111_  
TT: I give up.  
DF: _.-- .... .- - .. ..-. .... . - . .-.. .-.. ... ... --- -- . --- -. . .-- .... .- - .. ..-._  
TT: Sending Egbert your handle. Message me when you're done flipping your shit.  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering divellicateFabricatus [DF] \--

=====>

\-- ectoBiologist  [EB] began pestering divellicateFabricatus  [DF] at ??:?? --  
EB: look, i am SO sorry.  
EB: i had no idea my prank would actually hurt you!  
EB: are you ok?  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] blocked ectoBiologist  [EB] \--


	8. Kurloz Makara [Pesterchum]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every single one of Kurloz's lines have hovertext. Most just repeat the smileys he's using, but others don't. So this one won't make as much sense on a mobile device, sorry. Then again, it's basically just Kurloz being creepy and messing with Hal's head, so... Yeah. I knew I wouldn't be able to do him justice if I tried to outright show exactly what he's 'saying' or doing, so I just left it mostly up to the imagination. Which, given this is Kurloz, is probably more fitting than making things clear anyway. Also, I just updated my workskin to include the pesterlog blocks, so I'll be going through my fics adding that.
> 
> Okay, enough rambling. Enjoy!

============> Kurloz: Troll hapless victim. 

\-- toyCorpse [tc] began trolling divellicateFabricatus [DF] at ??:?? --  
tc: :o)  
DF: It seems there is simply no escape from you assholes. You're the Jack Skellington wannabe, right?  
tc: :o)  
DF: Okay, no. Two can play this game. Either you talk or I emote.  
tc: :o)  
DF: (\>_</)  
tc: :o|  
DF: (\>_</)  
tc: :o|  
DF: (\>_</)  
tc: :o(  
DF: (\>_</)  
tc: :o(  
DF: Just to warn you, dude, there is a 110% chance I can do this all day.  
DF: Or I could just block you.  
DF: With that in mind, is there a point to your accosting me over the nonexistent Internet or are we done here?  
tc: :o)  
DF: Holy sweet mother of Jesus.  
DF: You think you're funny, huh, Assclown Mc Tongueless?  
tc: :o)  
DF: Fuck you.  
DF: This is your only warning.  
DF: _Get your nasty fucking psychic troll-claws the hell away from my brain._  
tc: :o)  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] blocked toyCorpse  [tc] \--

============>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **EDIT 11/7/2014:** I just realized something. I think this conversation probably happened soon after Hal met Mituna.


	9. Jane Crocker [Pesterchum]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Inspector Crocker to arrive on the scene! Also, it seems Roxy and Dirk weren't the only ones involved in making Hal's body after all. It's pretty obvious in retrospect, tbh. ^.^ Makes sense that their Life Player would have a hand in things. Especially considering... Yeah. The upd8s are definitely making me trend back towards the feels-punching this series started out with... Worst part is it really does make sense.
> 
> There's hover-text in this chapter; it's hexadecimal.
> 
> I hope I did an okay job of writing Jane...
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

=====> Jane: Answer chum. 

\-- divellicateFabricatus [DF] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at ??:?? --  
\-- gutsyGumshoe  [GG] is an idle chum! --  
DF: Hey.  
DF: I'd leave my identity a nice, juicy mystery for our favorite ace detective to sleuth, but there is an 82% chance Roxy already told you, so...  
DF: This is Hal. I’m back. All corporeal and everything.  
DF: ...  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] is an idle chum! --  
GG: Why if it isn't Mister Strider! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, fine sir?  
DF: Yo. Pleasure’s all mine.  
GG: Well that’s just grand, because as it turns out, you have an awful lot of explaining to do.  
GG: I've already done quite a bit of sleuthing, and the clues I uncovered paint an atrociously ugly picture.  
DF: Inspector Crocker strikes again. She is simply the best there is.  
DF: (\>_</)~*  
DF: Do me a favor and lay some sweet exbrosition down on this poor befuddled Watson, yeah?  
GG: Your fancy new body isn't the only thing I had to use the Lifey Thing on.  
GG: Why?  
DF: Hold up.  
DF: It seems you just implied that the only member of our rad troupe to have been left out of the loop about Operation Retrieve the Brains of the Team is Jake.  
GG: Are you surprised?  
DF: Nah.  
DF: _4c696c 20 626974 20 737572707269736564 20 796f75 20 63617265642c 20 74686f7567682e_  
DF: Ignore that.  
GG: Certainly! Out of purely academic curiosity, however, what sort of code would that be?  
DF: Bzzt. Nowhere near subtle enough.  
DF: My virtual lips are sealed.  
GG: Curses! Foiled again!  
DF: Alas, it seems your superbly sleuthy sneakiness and scintillating street-smarts simply cannot stand up to my sly Stiderian schemes. You’ll get me next time.  
GG: :B  
GG: In all seriousness though, what happened to you?  
DF: Did you tell Dirk?  
GG: No. I wanted to ask you about it first.  
DF: Good. Don’t.  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe  [GG] \--  
GG: Hey!  
\-- divellicateFabricatus  [DF] blocked gutsyGumshoe  [GG] \--

=====>

Oooh, that little-!

What is it with Striders and absconding at the drop of a hat?  If he didn't want to talk about it, all he had to do was say so!

You're going to track that boy down and give him a piece of your mind!

=====>


	10. Gamzee Makara [In Person]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pfft. It's a short one, but fitting nonetheless. Enjoy!

=====> Hal: Be down with the clown. 

You're chilling on Jake's planet waiting for the dork of the same name to arrive when you see the juggalo troll in the distance.

Oh  _hell_  no. He's headed your way.

(This is the guy who brovided the horse-troll combronent of FuckupSprite.)

_(((((The one who, in a timeline that unhappened and you do not in fact remember, even if you do still carry a persistent dislike of the wordy Beforan spider-troll, killed his own former(?) moirail.)))))_

You are approximately  _0%_ down with the clown.

=====> Hal: Abscond. 

So you decaptchalogue a bottle of Faygo (why were you even carrying this again?), throw it as hard as you can, and run the other way at top speed.

(You have no clue how you avoided faceplanting like a chump.)

=====>

Nubs berates you over Pesterchum for a solid hour.

_Worth it._


	11. Kurloz Makara [In Person]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the inspiration, LupaDracolis! This one's really short, but I guess the dorks wanted their privacy, heh.

=====> Hal: Chill with the mime-troll.

Meeting the mute Makara face to face isn’t all that bad, actually. In fact, it’s pretty nice. Sure, he sort of just appears behind you after the skater duo head off to a dream bubble memory of some skate park she’d frequented back on Trollworld B, but he doesn’t touch you or try to reach into your head, just coughs and makes a gross noise in his throat so you turn around and offers you an orange Faygo. 

“Someone’s been stalking us to gauge drink preferences, I see. Thanks but no thanks; I overdose on sugar worse than that kid with the same name as a computer in Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. What brings you here, o creepy-ass mother-bear moirail of the raddest brain-trapped psionic we know?”

He shrugs and signs [ a meme](http://s.quickmeme.com/img/59/59f8381007c7157cf7f841aa0fb70f2d32b0b07d4d754e60daed4d83b8af59d3.jpg) at you before popping open the bottle and taking a swig (you pretend not to notice the wince). Waste not, want not, after all. You can grok that. (Wonder who pulled out the stitches. His lips are a mess, but they’re a cleaned-up mess, at least.) 

“Okay, seriously, how do you do that. Is it a secret troll superpower or something?”

Shrug times two combro. 

“Fair enough. Abrology accepted, by the way, or at least I am assuming that was what that was. Do you know how to sign words as well as viral visual media? It seems I am currently up for civil conversation.”

(Hmm. Is that what a sincere Kurloz smile looks like, or are you just reading into it too much?) 

_‘Yeah brother. I can.’_

“Sweet.”

=====>

Doesn’t take long for him to settle down; you either, surprisingly. 

You start with simple stuff. Awkward small talk, assurances that you don’t have your eye on the dandelion boy genius’s diamond or his ass, no you really are not a Prince, false or otherwise, you’re an Heir thank you very much; the usual. Not sure how that ends up leading to topics including what it feels like to be trapped in your body slash physical form, guilt, feeling like a burden to your friends on your end and a threat on his, Chucklevoodoos, and why he’d welcomed ‘double death’ so much, but it does. (He doesn’t do the creepy invasive head-voice thing even once.) 

The few minutes you’d mapped out in your head quickly become an hour, then two, then ‘until your arms are sore and Makara Skellybones is coughing up purple-flecked spit.’ (Note to self: making the mime-troll laugh when you have no clue how damaged his throat and mouth actually are is a very bad idea.) He waves off your offer of assistance and makes a growly noise that sets him off again, so you back off and let him retreat once he catches his breath. 

(Maybe a healing item with cough drops or some kind of edible minor numbing agent will help? Having a project is always nice.) 


End file.
